I'm lying face down on the table while three students regard my bare back. I can see their shoes through the face hole in the massage table. A fourth pair of shoes appear.
"Southern cross?"
It's our instructor. He's just making conversation with me while he observes my classmates pressing their hands into my back, marking the borders of my trapesius muscle.
I'm pleased he recognises the constellation. It's done in diamonds-like shapes, which tends to throw people off.
"Did you have a freckle removed?" My classmate C asks as he touches the scar on my right shoulder (They're on to the rhomboid muscles now).
"I had a mole removed. Turned out not to be cancerous."
(Mostly I forget that scar even exists. I've been reminded of it twice in the last week)
"You've got an awful lot of tension here. Man, what were these shoulders like before you worked on them, D?" He asks the pair of sensible shoes on my right.
D was my partner for our assessment the day before. And she did a great job on my shoulders, actually.
Just another day at massage college. You get to know your classmates pretty quick.
For me it's been a great class so far. I've got a break for a couple weeks now.
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